Apart
by Andysteve1311
Summary: They had never been apart before. Now all she wants is to catch up. Moving on when half your soul is missing is difficult enough, but having to deal with meddlesome teammates and crazy villains with superpowers, isn't grief enough?
1. Disappearances

He was here and then he was gone. _Pietro._

She supposed it was a trademark of his, to just randomly disappear and reappear at his own whim. Countless people had fallen victim to his disappearances, had called him unreliable and _twitchy_ (the word angered her like none other). They assumed he had no control over his actions, over his speed or his temper. They just didn't understand him. Not like she did.

He had never told her directly but she had understood how the world worked differently to him. It was much too slow, creeping along at speeds far inferior to her brother's. His impatience with the world and with everyone else was understandable, how could they expect him to move at their speeds when he could go _so much faster_.

Their powers were a part of them, ingrained so deeply it was difficult to believe that they had once lived without them. Pietro without his speed? Ridiculous.

It felt like Pietro had always been fast and she had always been in control, able to do wonderful, marvelous things. But then she vaguely remembers the presence of her parents, people who had been ripped from her by Tony Stark and his war creations.

Then it becomes all too easy to see how they have changed and adapted over the years and why they are just so impatient to start doing something that will make a difference. And it's so hard to sit around during all the tests and the practices and the check-ups, _knowing_ that they could be out there, in the real world doing something.

Pietro had always moved quickly, his impatience was one of his flaws, but he was just trying to speed the world up to his speed, trying to do good.

But this? He had never been impatient with her, not ever. Not when they were children waiting to live or die. He had held her then, whispering lullabies and shushing her tears. They were waiting to die, but they would do so together, Pietro and Wanda, the twins always together.

 _Pietro._

12 minutes. That's all they had ever been apart. She wondered if this was how he had felt those twelve minutes apart. If it had felt even remotely close to this then she was so terribly, terribly sorry because she would do anything to have him back, to have him close again.

 _I'm sorry._

The agony had struck her swiftly, not giving her much time to breathe or think, just react. He was her brother and he was gone.

Where did you go? She wanted to ask, she wanted to scream at the world. Why was he gone? Why take him away; hadn't they been through enough? Hadn't she given up enough?

Pietro, where are you? Her mind cried, searching, longing for his arms around her, for him to reassure her that things were going to be okay because no matter if the world was going to hell, it would always be alright with the two of them. The world could be falling to pieces around them, it could be burning, but his arms meant safety, meant home and love and care. There was no better place in the world for her.

Was I too slow for you? The thought creeps in, unwanted and painful. I was too slow and I couldn't keep you here. The world had always been too slow but he had never mentioned that even she was too slow for him. It makes her crumble in agony considering that maybe for the first time in her life she was too slow and not enough to make him stay.

Is that why you disappeared from me too? She had never considered the possibility in joining the rest of the world in being abandoned by Pietro. In being too slow to keep up with him, too _ordinary_ to be able to be worth his time.

 _I want to be with you_.

Pietro is all that matters now, not some stupid Avengers, not Tony Stark and his war creations, not the man with the arrows, not the world. _Pietro._ And the thing that destroyed him.

There is such sweet delirium that sweeps in after reaching Ultron and tearing him apart, like he tore her brother apart. The exquisite feeling is almost enough to make her forget her agony. But not quite.

 _I want to be with you_.

The agony is the only thing that she can feel and she is giddy with the thought that soon the end will come and she will be gone too. Then she can finally catch up to Pietro again. And that is all she wants.

 _Please wait for me._

Please wait, she pleads, _pleasepleaseplease_ just wait a little bit, just a few more minutes. Maybe if she's lucky, only twelve minutes will have elapsed in the time that they've been apart. That would make them even.

Unfortunately, she gets rescued and her wishes denied. More than twelve minutes pass and still she has not been reunited with Pietro. The rest of the day and following weeks are a blur and she's not entirely too sure what had happened around her. But she is sure of only one thing.

One day I will catch up to you, Pietro.

 _Please wait for me._


	2. Baby Steps

_The stereotypic staple of being a twin was doing things together, Wanda thought, a wide smile gracing her face despite the incredibly taxing exertion of fighting Ultron's seemingly never-ending robot army packing her lithe body with aches. As she aimed her crimson blasts at the aggravating pieces of metal surrounding her, Wanda's thoughts strayed (as always) to Pietro._

 _Who would have thought that they would ever arrive at this moment? Where Tony Stark, and by extension the Avengers, was no longer the enemy. Nonetheless, it is tricky to think about because despite switching sides, Wanda still isn't quite sure how she feels about Stark._

 _She's hated that man for so long that it's weird to think about him without that negative emotion rearing its head and demanding blood and justice and his untimely demise. He may not be the enemy but Stark is nevertheless responsible for the creation of those terrible things that had taken her parents and had almost separated her and Pietro permanently. Whatever he is now, he is not an ally._

 _All those people that he had damned, without an ounce of consideration for the fates he had sealed with his stupid inventions. It seemed so reckless and unforgiveable, even for her. Wanda wasn't sure she could extend an olive branch or give Tony Stark another chance._

 _Pietro for sure wouldn't think about it, and Wanda gave a mental sigh at the thought of having to deal with an irritated Pietro for months to come, short-tempered and irritable, if they joined the Avengers and were in such close proximity to Stark._

 _Wanda slammed one of the robots into a pillar, watching warily as a cluster of robots started to creep a little farther in, slowly pushing her back and making it far too close for comfort. She danced around the enemy, entirely untouchable, sending her (she didn't really have a name for them yet) bolts and utterly decimating her opponents. Really, they should have been constructed better, Wanda reasoned, but ultimately it was to their advantage that they weren't._

 _Thinking of their construction brought her ponderings to Ultron. How could she have believed his lies? She was supposed to be the grounded one, the realistic one, the one who was able to discern rational from irrational and was able to see through all pretenses. Separating her emotions and making logical, common sense decisions was her strong suit. What did it say about her abilities that she wasn't even able to see how demented and twisted Ultron really was? He was worse than_ _ **Stark**_ **.** _And she had helped create him!_

 _The witch fought a shudder at the thought of falling for Ultron's manipulations, however subtle they were, and noticed at the corner of her eye a flash of metal. She twisted rapidly, taking aim and firing at the automaton attempting to sneak past her. The blast connected with the scrap of silver steel and tore into the machine's center, destroying it completely. There was another however that was quick to take its place, like a rubber band snapping back into place and Wanda had to physically shove away the pieces threatening to snatch and tear at her._

 _A sudden rush of endorphins and adrenaline filled Wanda with glee and she fought the uncharacteristic desire to squeal. She was riding a high and felt like she could take on the world. Which was exactly what was at stake, she reminded herself. Focus, focus, and tear down those scraps of oil and steel that threatened all that she held dear. Pietro and their home. The urge to protect reminded Wanda of all the practices she had endured with Pietro with Hydra and their frustration at not being able to realize their true potential. This is what they were meant to do. This is how she was going to achieve her highest potential._

 _Maybe Pietro won't be so unreceptive to the idea of joining the Avengers and fighting for a cause that was worthwhile. For the first time in months, Wanda was able to visualize the bigger picture: a future of fighting the Ultron's and Stark's of the world who were unable to comprehend their own evil. She could thoroughly picture her and Pietro fighting to ensure that no one would feel the same pain they had._

 _But how to convince Pietro? Perhaps Stark wouldn't even be working in their proximity. He lived in Los Angeles and New York so if they avoided those areas…? Wanda dodged a fist that whizzed just above her head, shifting at the last second before moving her knee upwards and…ouch. That hurt worse than working with the trainers, Wanda thought wryly, before straightening up and shoving her fist through the chest of her opponent, her discharge easily working through the metal before continuing onwards. She shook off the remaining metal and worked earnestly to attack groups with large blasts._

 _It's a good thing we had such long practices, Pietro, otherwise we wouldn't be able to hold off this long, Wanda contemplated sardonically, easily recalling how she had complained of tiredness and exhaustion after their Hydra sessions. It was great knowing that those long hours had paid off._

 _How much longer, Pietro? When will everything be put into—Wanda felt a sudden lurch and a feeling of dread entering her senses. Something was wrong. Something was so very, very wrong._

 _Wanda felt alone._

 _At first there was nothing but confusion…_

 _Where was she? She was in the middle of a stone structure. Or was it cement? Did it matter?_

 _What was she doing? ...She was moving…blasting…she was fighting. Did it matter?_

 _Why? To save the world…. Did it matter?_

 _What was wrong? Why was she suddenly so thrown off balance?_

 _Something…something was missing. It was as if the steady, stable ground that had supported her from birth had been ripped from underneath her, tossing her into a whirlpool of darkness tugging her endlessly, tearing at her, pulling her every which way._

 _Where was Pietro? Where was her ground? Why hadn't he made it right?_

 _ **Where was Pietro?**_

 _There was only darkness and Wanda was unable to help herself from curling in, wanting to make herself as small as possible because she **wasn't** safe anymore._

 _It took a while to realize she was screaming. Those were her vocal cords creating that wail shrieking through the city, expressing her agony. The blasts that erupted from her were nothing but self-defense. There was no more safety; it was all gone and Pietro wasn't here._

 _Wanda searched for the first time in her existence for her brother's life, the tiny yet priceless sign of his presence that had always been in the back of her head since she was born. She had always been able to track people this way; searching for one spark, that tiny little piece of mind in the innumerable sparks of the world. Pietro's wasn't one that she had ever needed to search for,_ _ **ever**_ _, because it had always been intertwined with hers._

 _Where was it? Where was it? Wherewherewherewhere was it?!_

Wanda jerked back to cold hard reality, sitting on a deep blue bedspread (like the last suit he wore) and stared blankly at the wall in front of her, the wall of her new home within one of the Avenger's bases. Despite her intense gaze, she wouldn't be able to describe anything about the wall itself, or anything about her new residence, her mind still picturing with perfect clarity the final moments she had of actually living.

Because she wasn't living now, nor would she want to. She really, really didn't want to. She just existed and filled the demands given to her by Captain America and her other superiors. They asked and she delivered exactly what they wanted.

It was all performed with exact precision, exactly as they asked. Jab. Jab. Uppercut. Dodge. It all became routine.

Pietro. He filled her thoughts only at the end of each day, when she was dismissed after her training. She would lie down or sit at a desk and stare blankly, thinking back to those final moments.

What could she have done? How could she have saved him? Maybe if she had insisted on staying together…or if she had discovered Ultron's plan sooner…of if she had Hawkeye stay with her…then the boy would have died, her mind informed her.

So? If she could exchange anyone, everyone, for Pietro she would.

But then her mind would return to the what-ifs and the maybes. Captain America, Steve, she corrected, had told her several times that it wasn't her fault, that there wasn't anything she could do but nonetheless each day without fail, Wanda would return to her position and remember.

Wondering wasn't going to get anything done, Wanda thought. She wanted to cry, to sob and let go of the internal agony that was burning her inside and making it so hard to breathe. But the pain meant it was real. This agony is my punishment for not being good enough and I will endure it, she concluded.

Her training sessions were getting better. It was probably because nothing they hit her with was able to even come close to this pain she felt on the inside, she retorted viciously. For the most part, the rest of the team had avoided talking to her much, probably thinking that she wasn't quite ready to interact yet with the rest of the world.

Wanda wondered if she would ever be ready. There was no question if the pain would ever go away; it never would. That was fact. But maybe it wouldn't hinder her from living. Wanda hated that it was a possibility but she hated even more that there was a miniscule, infinitely small piece of her that still hoped. She squashed the hope as violently as she could, preferring to return back to her constant painful bubble.

What if I join him? The thought came again. What if I join him?

Wanda considered the possibility of joining her brother (it wouldn't be too hard to do), however every time she seriously considered the idea, she wasn't able to go through with it.

Why?

Don't you dare, Pietro's angry growl would resonate through her mind. Don't you even dare think about those things!

But I miss you, Wanda's mind would whisper back, reaching out and straining to get even the tiniest bit of him back.

That's not good enough. You have to finish it, finish all the things we would have done together, Pietro's voice would respond. And his voice would make her swear to end things properly. Wanda swore and the voice would fade away, despite all attempts to make it appear again.

I'm going to finish things, Wanda would think, and then I'll join you. Wanda contemplated what finishing things would entail: would it mean the end of Hydra? The end of Stark Industries? The end of the creations like Ultron and Vision? Wanda was unable to come up with a straight answer. What would be enough?

Would the end of Hydra will be enough? Surely ensuring the end of the corrupt and evil organization that had given life to her and her brother would be enough. Wanda had given the complete and final list of remaining Hydra bases to her superiors (she had no memory of doing so but they said she had). Contrary to the Avengers' beliefs, there were a few more major bases that each also had their own experimentations and were carefully hidden away. Wanda's list gave very few clues about their whereabouts but it was enough to prove they existed. Like the one that had created the Winter Soldier, there were others that had managed to have some success in creating superbeings with skills that surpassed regular human abilities. The Avengers were tasked with completing their previous mission of shutting down all the bases.

Till the end of Hydra, Wanda decided. Then, and only then, will I join you Pietro, she decided. A sudden knock brought Wanda out of her silent reverie.

"Come in," she spoke, before the door revealed Captain America. Great, her mind supplied sarcastically to his appearance, another psych eval.

"Hey, Wanda," he started easily. "Have you thought some more about going to see Dr. Evans?" He had been trying to get her to go for the past several weeks (how long had it been exactly?), but was only starting to push in the past few days. He stayed silent, just watching for her reaction. Wanda nodded slowly, her eyes darting to her floor unable to meet his gaze.

Steve sighed before approaching her slightly and crouching in front of where she was seated, forcing her gaze to meet his.

"I'm so sorry that you're hurting," he said softly, "but it could help a little if you talked to someone. I won't push too hard but you won't be cleared for active duty until you go see him." Wanda's frustration rose quickly at his words—she wanted to yell at him in despair and aggravation at his butting in—but died soon after.

"Okay," she agreed softly. It was clear that Steve was struggling with something, maybe it was to push her farther but before he could make up his mind, Wanda reached out and placed a small hand on his shoulder. It was a surprisingly intimate gesture for someone who had reached out few times before. She uttered a small, "thank you." It seemed to clear any frustrations and Steve gave a small smile before nodding his assent and backing away.

"If you need anything," he said as he stood to leave but Wanda interrupted.

"I'll find someone," she promised. He gave another nod and left her to return to her wonderings.

How would she do it? He had been shot so many times, so maybe the standard gun to the head?

Get rid of all Hydra bases and then join Pietro, Wanda resolved.

 _Please wait for me._


	3. Relocation

Katherine Wright was an average woman. She was utterly exhausted from caring for her two precarious boys, and though she loved them to bits, she wished that they would just disappear for a few hours. Just a little bit.

She was driving down the street in a faded black Escalade, completely intent on stopping at a relatively new Chinese food place nearby—she definitely wasn't cooking today—when she felt an incredibly strong sense of fear wash over her, ruthlessly paralyzing her senses and making her inevitably numb to the outside world. Katherine could no longer recall the new Chinese place or her two precious little boys sitting in the backseat. Her entire body locked down, her foot mindlessly slamming down on the gas pedal as she wanted to get as far away from the awful feeling as possible, her bladder automatically emptying and drenching the leather seats.

Then the ferocious anger washed over her. She was completely and entirely enraged, ravenous, and bloodthirsty. She wanted to viciously tear and irreparably maim, crush ruthlessly and destroy everything without rational reason. Eagerly, she directed the car towards an unsuspecting throng of people—likely caught somewhere in the middle of the same emotional transitions—determined to injure as many as she could. The car slammed into the people, knocking them aside like they were nothing more than dolls and pulling more than a few underneath, before crashing into the wall behind them. The metal gave in, twisting inwards and tearing into the malleable flesh of Katherine. Behind her, her two boys were screaming loudly, sobs pouring out of their mouths uncontrollably in fear and they jerked forwards violently with the momentum of the crash to pull against the restraint of their seatbelts leaving them with severe chest pains. Outside, others who were also experiencing fierce emotions of rage began to pound on the windows and break out into brawls, not having one specific target. The two continued to wail desperately as the destruction ensued around them.

She stood amongst a crowd of people watching as beautiful, maddening chaos erupted around her. People were brutally beating down other people until there was nothing left except a pile of broken flesh and blood. Fires flared, windows were broken, glass converted into weapons, rocks and metal lobbied against homes and cars, as rabid men dragged young children into alleyways and hysterical women stabbed viciously into their attackers, followed most importantly by screams piercing the warm summer air.

A small smirk adorned the woman's face as she considered watching the unraveling carnage continue unhindered. How easy it was, she thought without remorse, to convince these people to hurt others, to participate in the mindless destruction of their own kind and who was she to impede them from their carnal pleasure? These inferior beings had no consideration for others, their self-preservation instincts guiding and pushing them to act in ways that would ensure their own safety at whatever the cost. She lived for these utterly exquisite moments of brutality, when people finally for the first time _stopped pretending_ and revealed their true nature.

People were born to survive, cruel and vicious, and society made them hide it away. She peeled away society and reveled in what was left.

She walked away laughing, her spirits lifted by the carnage and feeling entirely rejuvenated. Nothing else mattered in this moment. _Nothing_.

* * *

A.I.M. Priority Transmission 091325H-01

Encryption Code: Zeta

From: Dr. Fleischer, Medical Officer, ID: 042961-019-PH

To: Dr. Ackerman, Chief Medical Officer

Subject: Experimental Success

/start file/

Despite all biological and chemical risks imposed upon subject 158, subject has achieved field success in Operation: BLITZ. View attached file for city damage reports, number of casualties, experimental duration, countermeasures taken, and subject side effects.

Recommendation: Attached in file 010794: list of procedures, venoms, hormones, steroids, chemicals, training procedures involved with subject 158, along with synopsis of side effects and conditions. Use with caution.

/end file/

* * *

Wanda groggily got up the next morning, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She had revisited that dreadful moment again in her sleep, even in her dreams searching endlessly for her missing half.

She rose and quickly dressed in a mundane training outfit, hoping to be able to use one of the exercise facilities before eating breakfast. As she left the room and wandered the endless hallways, Wanda contemplated her plans; she stood firmly by her previous decision and focused on the work that lied ahead. There were only five more bases that she knew of that had been carefully hidden away and belonged to Hydra's sister branches. Each one had been trying desperately to achieve experimental success like theirs ( _hers_ ), but to her knowledge results were varied and mostly ended in subject death.

Unfortunately since she had only heard of them in passing, there was little information to offer her superiors. She passed on what little she knew but even they reluctantly acknowledged that it wasn't much to go on. She had no idea where they were or what they had created, or if they _had_ created anything.

Most likely they had, Wanda thought tiredly, slumping down slightly at the thought, and it was probably best to start with the assumption that they would be facing someone with superhuman abilities of some kind. It was entirely fascinating in a sick way to think that maybe someone else had pulled through after all the horrid experimentation imposed on him or her. HYDRA's experimentation techniques were incredibly intense and Wanda had only endured the arduous process with the comfort that she wasn't alone and with a goal in mind.

Wanda, completely submerged in her thoughts, stumbled slightly into another figure before realizing that she wasn't alone in the corridor.

"Hey," Sam Wilson started, his arms reaching out automatically to help her regain her balance. Pietro's hands would have slapped his away, she thought idly before straightening herself.

"Good morning," she countered, pulling away from his unfamiliar touch, entirely uncomfortable with his closeness. She still wasn't used to personal touches and people encroaching into her personal space.

"You're up early," Sam commented easily, breaking through the momentary silence they had entered.

"Yeah," Wanda returned weakly, offering no other explanation. Stiff silence filled the awkward moment, and she didn't know what else to say. She didn't want to explain herself to a stranger and she wasn't sure how to act around people anymore. But this was her teammate, her mind insisted, so did he still qualify as a stranger? It was all so frustrating and her limited past social interactions provided scant information as to how to proceed.

Pietro would no doubt say that he was not to be trusted (primarily because Sam was male) but what would Wanda say if Pietro were still here? Would she have grown closer to her teammates? Slipping into the what-ifs had recently become an avid pastime for her that she avidly attempted to avoid. It was a difficult concept to consider but for now Wanda settled for being uncomfortable with sharing more than the exactly necessary. What did it matter if she couldn't sleep? Besides if they got too close then he could become an unnecessary distraction from her main goals, she reasoned.

"Did you sleep ok?" Sam finally asked, interrupting her mind's ramblings. How ironic that this be the first question asked, Wanda thought sarcastically as she grimaced at the question.

"So that's a no?" Sam continued trying, fishing for some reaction from his reserved teammate. He was aware of all the pain that she was enduring and despite having just met, he wanted to help in some way. Having been directly exposed to many veterans who were traumatized and with constant death in both his personal and professional life, he could empathize with Wanda's pain and knew that in reality it was something she had to work through at her own pace. Nonetheless, he was willing to provide an ear or whatever he could do to aid her progress on that slow road to recovery.

Wanda briefly considered revealing her recurring dream but it just went against everything she had known to confide in someone besides Pietro. He was the one who knew all her nightmares, who comforted her and made her feel safe again. No one would ever be able to take his place and a part of her resented all those who tried to worm their way in. But what was she supposed to do now that her lifeline was the main character in her nightmares and her nightmares were reality?

"Not really," Wanda finally acquiesced, knowing that from her slip up earlier (damn her facial expressions!), he had to know she wasn't sleeping well. That was all she was planning to give, however.

"You heading up for some training?" Sam deflected, figuring that Wanda probably wasn't going to share more. Whether or not she was willing, it was a slight relief to have her open up a little instead of closing off even more.

They had started moving towards training facility 3, Sam following along with Wanda trying to keep her company.

"Yeah," Wanda responded quickly, her eyes flickering between him and straight ahead, questioning whether she still wanted to train now that she had company. Can't avoid them forever, she thought grumpily. Pietro, they're annoying.

The two slipped into silence as they arrived and headed for the treadmills. As she began running, Wanda went back to thinking about her plans for the future and where the other bases could be residing. What if they never found them?

After an incredibly uneasy exercise session, and thankfully no more conversations extending beyond water and towels, Wanda left Sam and headed back to her room to shower. She passed the Black Widow Natasha Romanoff on her way back and was blissfully relieved when she was ignored. It was an odd concept but Wanda was grateful for the distance. If only others could adopt her stance…

After her warm shower, Wanda headed to the large mess hall for breakfast and the day's briefing. There was no fixed schedule and S.H.I.E.L.D. was still basically in pieces after HYDRA's infiltration. Once she entered the enormous hall, she was surprised and annoyed to see _him_. Tony Stark was in the hall, although on the opposite end (which was still too close), standing alongside Steve Rogers and the two appeared to be in deep discussion. She scowled angrily because despite working for the Avengers, she still found it quite difficult to stomach his presence.

"Wanda, how are you doing?" A voice asked warmly, drawing her attention away from the source of her irritation. Wanda whirled around, surprised, and found herself in the presence of Clint Barton.

"I thought you were retired," were the first words that slipped out involuntarily at the sight of him. She hadn't even thought to filter her words. Hawkeye gave a small grin and replied.

"SHIELD retirement works a bit differently," he explained in answer to her non-question. "But more important than that, how are you?" The question inexplicably felt different coming from him. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he was her inspiration to join the Avengers, someone completely and entirely human with no superhuman or enhanced abilities who was still tirelessly working to better the world, her recruiter, someone who led her to a pivotal moment in her life. The unbearable and incredibly irritating question no longer felt as forced or fake—as many used the question as small talk—but rather with actual interest in her well being.

"I'm working on it," Wanda admitted finally, giving an honest answer instead of shrugging the question off as she had with everyone else.

The two moved together to grab breakfast and Hawkeye began explaining his new position in SHIELD.

"I no longer work in active missions, so I won't be joining you and the others on your outside field stuff. But I will be assigned to one post only, to work in training new recruits, so you might have a few training sessions with me." Clint explained as he walked—breakfast in hand—to find a table to sit down at. Wanda was slightly relieved that at the very least, she would still have another familiar face nearby.

They began to eat their meal in amiable silence, neither of them offering anything more to the conversation. Several others joined them that Wanda unfortunately did not recognize, appearing eager to snag a place at their table and began a new conversation with Barton. This left Wanda to happily to continue eating without interruption.

Moments later Captain America interrupted the discussion, as he began to address everyone in the hall.

"Okay, everyone settle down." His voice rang above all the conversations and the hall quieted rapidly into silence. "As of this morning, we have received intelligence regarding a possible Alpha Threat, who questionably appears to have some supernatural ability. This information is unverified at this point. There have been multiple sightings of this female at several scenes of extreme and unprovoked conflict, and is the only one to escape unscathed. Her last sighting was within a city near Seattle and the conflict was explained away to the public as an unprecedented riot. Numerous civilian casualties and extensive property damage occurred so investigations are underway as to whom she could be working for. You will all receive your normal assignments, however be cautious and mindful to your surroundings, her appearances are random, have occurred in various cities around the world and as of now there is no specific target other than causing widespread rampages." He concluded, a screen behind showcasing the few shots of the mysterious female.

In most of the images her face wasn't too clear and she was well covered, allowing for very little of her actual physical characteristics to show through. She wore different outfits, all plain, with changing masks that enveloped only parts of her face. In some her face was freer while in others she was completely covered excluding her eyes. Her green eyes sparkled with cruel joy and there was no doubt that she enjoyed the scenes of violence unfolding around her. Her images were followed by images of the aftermath of her appearances.

They were awful.

There were people strewn all over, a red sea spread throughout the ground beneath them. There was no indication that they had gone peacefully, many bodies extended in awkward and disturbing positions. The area around them was also quite damaged, buildings burned down to their foundations, cars flipped around, glass and other debris also widespread.

Wanda's lip curled and she felt complete disgust and vitriol towards the deplorable organization that had created the monster capable of inspiring such incredible desolation. Nonetheless she was also subject to feelings of immense shame. She could have easily been this person, and to see if from the other perspective made her question—as always—the terrible decisions she had made in the past. There were many within the organization that still mistrusted her, eyed her with hesitance and wariness and as eager as she was to prove herself, Wanda also accepted the fact that she _had_ made bad choices.

"We ask that everyone be on alert and proceed with caution on all assignments. A team has been assembled dedicated entirely to tracking her down, however that does not mean that they will be the first of us to encounter her." Rogers continued explaining. "For now that is all we can do. Continue your assignments as usual and check in periodically with your supervising officer."

Others in the hall broke into murmurs as they fervently discussed the new female threat and quite a few of them shot furtive—or what they thought to be furtive—glances in her direction. Wanda scowled angrily at them, not looking to be intimidated by anyone regardless of her new position within the organization.

"Wanda," Steve called out to her, beckoning her to approach where he stood amongst Black Widow and Clint. Wanda walked over quickly, ignoring all the eyes watching her move from one end of the hall to the other.

"We've compiled a group of people that we would like to spearhead this assignment," Steve began. "And several of them will take over your training sessions so you will be relocated to another base. Pack your things and be ready to leave with them in an hour."

It was terribly last minute and Wanda was undoubtedly surprised by the order. How easily they had made the decision to move her from one location to another and it made her extremely uneasy to consider how little control she had over some aspects of her life. New people taking over her training missions, Wanda considered with a groan at the frustrating concept of having to begin anew with the introductions. She was even more disappointed with the thought that those training sessions with Hawkeye would likely not happen.

She wanted to protest. She didn't necessarily oppose the move as she had little reason to remain in this base but something inside her wanted to object to the unexpected decision. Clamping down on her emerging emotions, Wanda nodded her acceptance and moved to leave the hall.

Perhaps, her mind contemplated, this was a good thing. Movement towards a new location could provide her with the opportunity to discover more information about the missing HYDRA bases. Not to mention new training sessions could allow her to expand on her ever-increasing abilities.

She still had to go through her psychological evaluation, however there was a chance that with the move the pressure she felt towards talking to a stranger would ease. In particular due to the fact that she would no longer be surrounded by so many leering supervising officers who were so openly eager to pick her brain for more details regarding HYDRA.

Would Pietro have come with me?

He would, her mind resolved. It was unmistakable that they would have been assigned to the same location. They wouldn't have tolerated anything less. Wanda's thoughts scattered as she began to recalculate her plans. Perhaps this would be a good thing…

* * *

He stood atop the enormous bridge, keeping a watchful eye on the commotion bellow. He was wholly unseen by the civilians below, too enraptured with their quick-paced, stressful everyday lives to contemplate looking upwards. They were fools for not considering their safety and ignoring that prickling subconscious feeling that there was a predator on the prowl eager to do away with its next victim, attacking from its place in the sky. He had the upper hand, not that he needed it.

He wasn't willingly going to attack today.

He was waiting.

 _She_ would be arriving soon, the only one that mattered at this point. _I missed you._


	4. Complications

Wanda was violently slammed down by her opponent, her face twisting with fierce pain as it came into direct contact with the ground harshly and bright red blood rapidly spurted out of her nose. The pain she experienced spiked and left her momentarily blind, and she tried unsuccessfully to clear her head enough to get back into the fight.

She had foolishly been attempting a kick that had proved invaluable against numerous opponents before, however it was unfortunately clear that none of them rivaled the fighting prowess of the infamous Black Widow. Her foot had been caught in midair, her propulsion used against her to swing her unforgivingly into the ground, her ankle being twisted in the motion and her nose possibly broken. Not to mention her arms that had attempted to break her fall, crushed beneath the weight of her body, folding awkwardly underneath, her ribs protesting the feeling.

Wanda let out a groan as she considered all her injuries and the uncomfortable amount of discomfort and severe aching she would feel until she was restored back to full health. The ubiquitous rumors regarding the physical capabilities of her scarlet-haired opponent were regrettably not over exaggerated and Wanda dreaded their sparring sessions with an unparalleled passion.

"Get up," Natasha Romanov ordered tonelessly, eyeing her fallen comrade critically, assessing how much longer the one-sided fight would last and how much more her partner—victim—could take. Wanda would not be given an opportunity to recuperate from her injuries, as in a real life situation there was every possibility that she would have to fight through similar grievances.

Wanda's debilitated arm trembled as she forced it to push herself up, unwilling to yield so soon into her training session. She was relentlessly determined to become the best fighter she could be in order to ensure that she would be allowed to complete field missions on her own. It would provide the unique opportunity to travel around the world and gain information.

She stood, slightly slumped with her ankle protesting every movement she made with a sharp stab of pain ricocheting throughout her leg adding to other various protesting body parts. Black Widow was circling her prey, looking for another opening to end the fight. Wanda had no doubt that there were endless opportunities at the moment—she could barely stand and she was in agony—but perhaps it was an attempt to teach her which areas to especially take care of if she ever were this damaged in front of an assailant.

Wanda, instead of joining Black Widow in the circling, turned slowly taking adequate precautions to ensure she was always facing her sparring instructor and protected her back as best she could. Her arms were up, one hovering protectively in front of her damaged face, still bleeding profusely and the other in front of her chest.

The warm, sticky blood felt utterly revolting as it slid down her face and onto her clothes, before continuing downward and making a profuse puddle on the floor. There was nothing available at the moment to aid in stemming the unending flow and Wanda opted to ignore the blood and focus as best she could on the fight.

Natasha launched her next attack swiftly as she pressed forward to strike at Wanda's face, knocking her hand aside to leave her open for Natasha's other arm to swing forward and deliver a blow to Wanda's face. The blow landed squarely on her cheek and Wanda's head was painfully shoved to the side as she was forced to take a few staggering steps back. Snapping back into place, Wanda quickly lashed back in retribution, her blue eyes blazing with fury and the promise of payback. The blow was clumsily and easily blocked, but the overflow of anger had provided the witch with sufficient adrenaline to continue the assault.

Wanda brought her knee upwards to slam into Romanov—she happily found it was not blocked in time—whose force brought Natasha to lean forwards, granting another opportunity for a facial assault.

Wanda tried to continue the moment with an uppercut to Natasha's jaw that landed mercilessly, but that was as far as luck and adrenaline pushed her. The superior fighter recovered rapidly, deflecting any further blows and began her retaliation with a brutal kick that slammed into Wanda's arm and upper body that pushed her back and into a kneeling position.

As Wanda rose again, the kick was followed by several strikes to her sides and abdomen that weren't all blocked successfully. Wanda's abdomen was in agony and after another swift kick landed viciously knocking her on her back, the back of her head slamming down onto the floor, Wanda gave into the fierce urge to quit.

"I yield," she got out as she curled into a ball on the floor, every inch of her body screaming in pain and soreness. As always the defeat brought tears to her eyes that had to be forced down. Her nose wasn't bleeding as bad as it had before, though it was still enough to make her feel discomfort. There was blood on her lips that managed to enter her mouth, her taste buds taking in the tangy iron flavor that made her want to retch.

Natasha went to the edge of the room that was purposely stocked with first aid items and retrieved two small towels, gauze, rubbing alcohol and some wrapping. She then strode back to her fallen student and began attending to her developing wounds. She handed the younger woman the towel for her nose and coaxed her into a sitting position.

The rubbing alcohol was poured onto some gauze and used to clean smaller wounds where the first layer of skin had been broken. Then a second towel was used to clean the area of the alcohol and blood, leaving angry looking scratches that were still bright red. Then she used the wrapping on Wanda's ankle, making sure that it would be supported properly for the walk back to her room and into a shower.

The two were quiet and neither one spoke other than when absolutely necessary. There were no words of praise for the progress that Wanda had made in recent spars, inevitably causing her to question whether she had advanced enough or if her improvement was disappointing. There was also no other real discussion of the spar, forcing Wanda to wonder how she could enhance her fighting abilities or hasten her advancement.

Despite the natural curiosity about her progress, Wanda was quite happy about the distance that existed between the two women. It was wonderfully freeing to know that there was someone who likely didn't care much for her, who wouldn't feel urged to ask her about her feelings or push her into an unwanted relationship. Wanda had moved to the West Coast with Hawkeye, Black Widow, Sam Wilson and several other recruits that Wanda hadn't bothered to know the names of. War Machine had been reassigned for some work in the D.C. area and Vision stayed in New York.

Wanda was over the moon ecstatic that the only reminders of Iron Man would be staying far away from her for the time being. After she was patched up as best as she could be with the supplies on hand, Natasha pulled Wanda up and the two began to make their way back to their own respective destinations. Wanda was headed to her room to shower and then to the health bay to see what she could do to get herself healed faster while Natasha was on her way to a briefing with the Captain and several other top SHIELD agents.

"Maximoff," the word shocked Wanda into stopping slightly before continuing forwards, glancing over at her companion and meeting her gaze with a questionable one of her own. "You need to get yourself cleared. Just go and get your evaluation done. You're of no use to SHIELD if you can't go out and do field missions."

Anger flared red hot within Wanda and annoyance nearly had her snapping back. She quickly bit down hard on her tongue, making her wince with exasperation owing to the fact that she now had another injury to add to the already extensive list, fortunately stopping herself from acting too rashly. Instead of responding verbally, Wanda gave a short nod, taking extreme care to keep her still-hurting face as clear as possible before turning away completely and walking as fast as she was currently able to her room.

It was as close to a dismissal as Wanda would dare to give to the other woman. There was no point in unnecessarily angering her training instructor since to do so would no doubt mean extraordinary pain and painful bloodshed in the future.

Wanda _knew_ that she needed to get cleared and despite all her progress physically, she was still not comfortable with the idea of sharing her personal thoughts and emotions with a complete stranger. No matter the motivating, the more information someone had about you, the easier it became to defeat you. That much was common sense. There was no logic in sharing things about herself that she never would have with anyone but Pietro. He was the only one who she had faith in and that would never change.

Additionally, Wanda also knew the main drive of her evaluation was her mental health after the death of her twin. She would be expected to share the raw, painful feelings she had experienced and continued living with regarding her brother's murder that she would never confide to anyone. Pietro had been everything in her life and she knew that it wasn't a healthy way to live, being so dependent and wrapped around one person. But the difference was that the person was Pietro, her twin, protector, and for Wanda there was nothing wrong with living out her life that way. She would not attempt to lie to others and minimize his value in their eyes for the sake of some field missions. Absolutely nothing was worth that.

The few meetings she had already had with her psychiatrist had proved uneventful and an utter waste of time for both their parts. She had sensed frustration from the doctor and she knew that he was trying his best to reach out to her in any way he could. But Wanda would not relent nor would she meet anyone halfway on this. If they could not accept that the subject of Pietro was something to be never discussed then she would have a problem. The fact that they pushed so relentlessly and thoughtlessly into the matter had come to irritate Wanda.

She had constant reminders from so many other members, superior officers, and training instructors to discuss the topic and to get herself cleared for active field duty. Each time it was mentioned, her temper was triggered and the incredible patience and control she was renown for over her emotions became strained. There would only be so much she could take before she would snap and Wanda would be damned before anyone in SHIELD ever saw her lose control.

Her thoughts were interrupted as a strong firm hand reached out and yanked her to a surprising standstill and Wanda whirled around quickly in absolute fury, her blood crusted black hair flicking behind her in a quick swirl that almost hit the other woman's face.

"Get it done, Maximoff," fierce blue eyes met stormy blue and two glared at each other.

"Unhand me, now," Wanda ordered, her voice low and wavering with fury as her control over her anger waned with each second that the other woman dared to hold on to her. If she didn't let go in the next second, then Wanda would gladly demonstrate the full extent of her powers. It wouldn't take much to get rid of this irksome pest, all it would take was a little magic and the puny Black Widow would meet Raid.

 _Snap out it!_ She told herself firmly. The dark feelings that been deliciously swirling around in her head about how to ensure that this woman would never touch her again disappeared and Wanda reigned her anger in with incredible difficulty.

Natasha unhanded Wanda, eyeing her warily and Wanda wondered if the woman knew how close Wanda was to losing control over her anger. In an organized spar, Wanda was able to remain in complete control considering everything that was occurring was expected. She expected the hits, the knockdowns and the pain. Her anger was always focused on the fight and never lasted past the spar. This anger on the other hand was festering beneath her skin, dark and all too eager to burst out at the slightest provocation. In the past few weeks, it had grown larger and grew harder and harder to control.

But Wanda was the Scarlet Witch, the calm, rational one who balanced Pietro's temper. Her rational side understood the anger and was always able to rein it in, to contain it and put it to productive use.

Was this a test? Was SHIELD concerned about her ability to restrain herself in a tense situation? Wanda questioned the motives behind the unexpected interference and she rubbed the area where she had been grabbed softly.

"I'll get it done," Wanda ground out, scowling deeply. "Anything else?" She asked, an edge to her voice that Wanda cursed, knowing that her anger was seeping out and displaying weakness. Calm down, she told herself, just continue breathing and calm down.

After enduring another moment of Natasha's strangely impassioned questioning gaze, Wanda was ready to try leaving once again.

"Calling Agent Romanov to the main briefing room," a male agent's voice echoed throughout the hallway, cheering Wanda up slightly that the undesired confrontation had come to an end. So much for distance, she thought sarcastically as she kept up her watch on Agent Romanov. Breaking the gaze finally, the Black Widow moved away quickly, her strides confident and unshaken.

It was a source of annoyance for Wanda that there was so little emotion displayed by Romanov, whereas she had nearly lost her temper twice! She walked slowly to her room, her ankle still aching with every step that she took. If it were even possible, Wanda felt even worse than before, as though she had lost some support she hadn't realized she was relying on.

 _Control your temper,_ she mentally chided herself and for the first time considered how little in control she actually felt at the moment. Her temper had always been fierce as she was an incredibly passionate person but it had been so easy to channel it to more productive outlets. Now, it threatened to leak out at inopportune moments and to people that Wanda still had no faith in.

As much as she believed in the cause, weeks of being locked in with nothing but more training sessions and counseling sessions had been driving her mad and she was filled with the desire to get out and away for an afternoon. SHIELD was just as much a cage as HYDRA was Wanda had been unhappy to discover, without all the evil scheming and outward appearance.

Wanda reached her room and went directly to take a shower, the warm water easily soothing the soreness from her muscles and coaxing her into a relaxed state. Her mind began to drift off, and began seeking out familiar sparks of the world. This ability had always confused her, being able to distinguish the minds of others, but it aided her ability to manipulate realities, an incredible tool to wield.

Perhaps it was disturbing to others, an invasion of privacy or a creepy undeveloped mental ability but it brought comfort to Wanda. In this state there was peace; there was no division or hate, just the minds of the world swimming contently around and wonderfully alive.

 _ **Fzzt**_! A connection made shocked Wanda back to her shower, her heart racing with happiness, adrenaline, excitement, joy, anticipation; she experienced an entire assortment of emotions. What was _that_? Something out there had enough power to reach out to her in the alternate world and managed to connect with her. Whatever it was, it was immensely powerful and Wanda felt incredibly drawn to the power.

Eagerly she closed her eyes and attempted to return to the sparks, seeking out the one that had made contact. Unfortunately, as Wanda was searching she found something quite different, ancient, powerful. It reached out to Wanda and the moment they connected, Wanda experienced a piercing burning sensation in her mind. She collapsed onto the floor, the warm water still pouring over her.

What…was…that? She wondered before completely fading to black.

* * *

Natasha was worried. She was always worried about something; there was always so much to contemplate. There was an innumerable amount of corrupt and immoral people out in the world who had the capacity, the means and the desire to do harm. The world was a dark place and she had more enemies than allies, trusted few and knew without a doubt that even the few she did trust couldn't save her.

Bruce chose to disappear which stung because there was a moment where she believed that she had found one final opportunity for happiness. Two monsters deluded themselves into believing that they deserved the sliver of happiness they had felt together. Reality crashed into her when she saw that he was just like all the others who came before him.

Regardless of their romantic history, Romanov was worried about him for a completely different reason. The Hulk had been seen at his absolute worst, in the midst of a destructive craze that razed buildings and was about as controllable as a hurricane. The disaster he had left in his wake had to be answered for. People died, were injured, millions of dollars of damage done to the city, not to mention the people's psyche, and they were witnesses to the horror that was the green, ravenous monster that lied partially dormant within one of the world's most brilliant scientists. Even his intelligence couldn't save him now. Demands were made for his capture and for justice in the name of all the victims of that day.

Scarlet Witch. She was a nuisance to be wary of and the real person to blame. The girl was capable of good, Natasha witnessed her devotion for her people, but she was also incredibly naïve and she lacked restraint. The girl didn't consider the consequences to her actions; she didn't plan things out effectively or contemplate all the people that could be affected by her decisions.

The attack on the Avengers to gain time had been incredibly effective, Natasha recalled with severe annoyance. It had also caused massive uproar as Bruce lost control, which was no doubt the witch's intentions, and the Hulk had laid siege to a city full of innocent people—likely not planned. It was incomprehensible, how in the interest of the greater good, it was all right to force the man containing a beast to unleash his dark side so near civilization. There had been no restraint shown; only extremes that had driven one man to live his worst nightmare.

Into the wind, Bruce had hidden himself very well and Natasha had yet to hear anything about his whereabouts. Even worse, she had to help train the person that was the reason why her friend was in the wind. As the Black Widow, Natasha was all about owning up to your actions, understanding the depths of your mistakes and making up for them.

There was no forgiveness, no redemption or salvation, but there was repentance. Remorse for past cruelty and the desire to better and improve were impressive qualities that could motivate someone into doing 'good'. The Scarlet Witch had demonstrated several of these characteristics; she was driven, passionate about helping others, however she continued to waste valuable time when she could be out there in the world actually assisting others. Instead, Wanda remained a mopey little girl who was angry and failed to make up for all the damage she had caused both to the Avengers and to the world.

There were things Natasha could understand, her hatred of Tony Stark one of them—she too occasionally suffered through similar feelings—and the pain of losing loved ones. Natasha had lost so many people in her life that she felt as though she was numb to the possibility of losing more. But the girl couldn't even pretend to get through a pesky psychological evaluation that would deem her fit for service. It was increasingly frustrating and frequently made Natasha want to rattle the girl. How hard could it be to just suck it up and tell people what they wanted to hear!

Fortunately, Natasha had plenty of experience backing her, which made it possible for her to do her duty first. She was able to work with people whom she harbored dislike and even loathing towards, if it meant saving a life.

Moreover, Natasha had other problems to resolve. There were random attacks occurring throughout the world and it was clear that this was either HYDRA or something bigger to worry about. The scowl returned to her face as she considered how far out of their depths they were in this case. Absolutely no survivors, nothing to indicate any clues about the villains' origins or their goals.

With no way to predict where they would strike next, SHIELD was left to react to the destruction sites, not prevent them as they would have liked. She and many others had perused through every resource they could think of to tie these attacks back to someone and give them a clue as to how to proceed. Nothing had turned up. HYDRA was normally more forthcoming, which made things extraordinarily worrisome.

Next on the list of things to worry about was her stalker. One of the major contributors to her move to this new base was to try and lose the shadow that she had somehow gained somewhere in between saving the world from Ultron and helping set up a new Avengers' base. She had noticed a strange man multiple times in various different cities while on field missions. Much to her frustration, she had yet to capture him, as he was very elusive.

Natasha arrived at the main briefing room where she was surprised to find another old acquaintance.

"Nat!" A petite teenager cried out as she smiled back at her, her startling pink and black hair coming in second as the most noticeable thing about her. The foremost noticeable thing about the teenager before her were enormous, multicolored wings that extended behind her, which fluttered quickly before they returned to their original folded position. The girl wore a standard X-men uniform consisting of black and yellow with the traditional belt and center red X around her hips. She had a large grin on her face, beaming up at her, black eyes lighting up with happiness.

"Megan, it's been a while," Natasha responded smiling back at her. Pixie pouted at her before bounding towards Natasha and enveloping her in a big hug.

"I missed you!" Megan cried as Natasha returned her embrace with a fond smile.

"What brings you here?" Natasha asked as the two separated. Megan smiled even wider as she twirled around and practically danced back to her seat.

"Your newest member, the Scarlet Witch! Captain America reached out to our group considering we have similar abilities hoping that we would be able to teach her more about how to use her abilities and gain proper control over them before they become a risk to herself or anyone else," Megan continued. "I'm here to discuss what times would work best and when I can meet her."

Megan's upbeat energy was contagious but her words brought more worries to Natasha's mind. Did they really need the newest recruit of the team, someone who had literally been messing with their minds months earlier to become even stronger?

"All right then, since it's all been settled, I'm going to go look for the Scarlet Witch," Megan exclaimed excitedly, as she gathered all the documents that she had brought with her and with another quick hug to Hawkeye and Black Widow, bounced out the door. Natasha watched her leave, a small indulgent smile gracing her face before she once again settled for a neutral expression.

"Agent Romanov," another voice captured her attention to the compound's head research scientist and one of the leaders of the compound Dr. Henry Pym, known as Hank to many of his associates, and to Hawkeye, the other leader. There were several images pulled up on the center screen of deceased people who had two similar traits—apart from that they were very dissimilar—they were all executed.

It was a precise shot to the center of the head but what sent chills downs Natasha's body was the colors their face were painted. Their faces were smeared with red paint with an even deeper red star in the center stretching over their noses and into their face. It was an unforgettable symbol for her and these kills were clearly attempting to send her a message.

"We thought that you would recognize these markings, can you think of anyone who might be ordering these hits?" Natasha shook her head and the three began to discuss as they described where the men had been found. Many of them were found in abandoned or remote areas, where it was easy to dispose of a body unnoticed if it were planned appropriately, however one of the bodies had been dumped near the compound. Its intended purpose was clear: to notify the Avengers of the killings and to point out that they were the intended recipients of whatever message they were trying to get across.

"We have ordered stricter patrols around the compound but we would like to task you to track these people down. They have targeted you for a reason and we think that you would have the best chance of deciphering their message." Barton was scanning her earnestly, his serious expression lacking the good humor and warmth it normally contained.

"I can do it," Natasha replied confidently, her blank expression expressing none of the unease that came with seeing those symbols. It was unsettling, however she was not afraid and she would ensure to put down the person who thought it was a good idea to anger the Black Widow.

The three sat down and began to discuss possible tactics.

* * *

This would be their biggest hit yet. They had already visited several other major cities but this area was _protected_. New York City contained an innumerable amount of superheroes that had anchored themselves to the city and claimed it as their home. What better way to send a message to the world than to defeat their protectors on their own turf?

They walked her down the ramp of the airplane, taking special to ensure that she was as restricted as always. She wore a white coat reminiscent of a straightjacket, developed specifically to limit her abilities. Without them she was just another human—although she was also well trained—easily subdued with the right number of men possessing adequate skill.

Subject 158 was rather intelligent and she knew that whatever she had signed on to do, this was not it. Forced into submission, pumped full of chemicals and drugs that made her life a living agony, she could not recall times of a better life. She obeyed without question because there were moments where she forgot the pain and the agony and she just _lived_. I

n those moments, everything made sense and she experienced a high unlike anything else. It was in those beautifully exquisite moments where she finally unleashed the true nature of humanity, made them see what they were really like. She could make them understand her in a way that they would normally deny, lies upon lies fed to them until they forgot their true nature.

"You will approach this building," Her superior pointed out a building on the map labeled Stark Industries. When you are approximately two blocks east, on these two streets you will begin your assault. You will have two hours to enjoy your moment." All other details had already been covered, this was just a standard procedure: to remind her—as if she needed reminding—of what her task was and how long she could enjoy the moment before submitting.

There was a reason for submitting but Subject 158 was too tired to trying to recall what it was. There was always pain when she remembered and it was emotionally draining to remember all the details of her past. This was better.

The men gave her a lift approaching the city, taking off her coat and liberating her from her confines. Immediately she began to feel an uncomfortable pressure that existed within her chest, an agony that she had recalled before each high. This unending pain existed because people could not _see_ the way she could and that made her feel depraved expressed through an aching in her chest. She wanted them to understand.

They set her down about three blocks from where she needed to be and she quickly made her way over, the ache in her chest worsening with each second it was contained.

 _Just a little bit further_ , she thought as she neared the area. Finally once she arrived, she was ecstatic that she would be able to release herself from the pain and liberate herself and all those around her.

She let it go, unleashing her toxins in the air for everyone around her to take in, inhaling their sweetness, feeling them caress their skin. She began with fear—it was one of the easiest emotions to trigger—before transitioning to anything else. After fear, it became child's play to manipulate the people into feeling what she wanted, what she felt.

It was the only way they would understand; they had to experience it for themselves.

After the fear came the anger. It quickly washed over all the people who had either frozen with fear or who had chosen to run away but weren't fast enough to escape. Finally they were experiencing true reality.

The destruction began anew and she began to laugh joyously once more.


End file.
